


Voice

by littlemisssexkitty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisssexkitty/pseuds/littlemisssexkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Present for rnegastar and their prompt about Megatron using Rodimus because he misses his former second in command. It's more angsty than the usual stuff I write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice

It’s always his voice he misses the most. 

In the dark of his quarters with his door wings under his servos he can almost pretend that it’s him. He's haughty and arrogant just the same as his former second in command, every action he tries to take is met with an immeasurable amount of force and his mistakes are often and embarrassing. When they stand at the front of the ship with the rest of the crew watching him he feels the same pang in his spark, he used to know he was there behind him, scheming. They'd argue, scream at one another and then they'd tear their frames in two and he would leave his mark all over his body so that the next time they spoke to his army everyone would know who he belonged to and he would smile all the way with his masters claw marks seared into his bright red thighs. 

When the world around him crumbled, when Cybertron lay crushed by his own hands he was his universal constant, comforting in his dependability to scheme and fail. Vocal about his anger but beside him still, to the very end, or so he had thought. 

Rodimus moans around his spike, he never ceases talking even in the berth, he screams and sighs and grabs whatever’s in front of him. His hands are a shaking mess grabbing at everything from his position leaning across the berth; his pedes barely even reach the floor as Megatron pounds into him from behind. 

Megatron feels his teeth grind in anger, he knows his spike is too big for Rodimus yet he takes it anyway often rushing to act before he is ready. He never changes even in the berth. This time there is energon mixed with his lubricant around his spike from the rim of his valve, despite how long he had spent trying to loosen him with his tongue and servos and yet the Autobot loves it, sprawled out in front of him, thighs wide apart as he thrusts harder driving himself to completion. Rodimus moans his name over and over along with promises and demands and pleases. It irritates him; he quickens his pace meaning to ruin the mech beneath him in his grasp. He leaves dent marks in the wings in front of him, for a moment in the darkness he can imagine they are his. But as Rodimus whines his overload tightening deliciously around his spike and he too overloads sharply he feels the instant regret. That screeching, snarling, aggravatingly impossible voice can never be replicated and it never sounded sweeter than when he was his and screaming his name as overload shocked through him. His wings tremble just like his did but his voice is so sincere. It is a continuous reminder.  
The pleasure is not worth this pain. But as always, Rodimus sighs turning round and kisses the former warlord. They will go another week of arguing and the same thing will happen again. Megatron hates the autobot next to him who lays his head upon his chest, but he hates himself far more for allowing this to happen. 

As he drifts into recharge he thinks of all the possibilities he had deemed for them long before the war fully started when he had destroyed the senate for him and looked at him with such adoration. Of all their possible futures he had never even considered something like this to be an option. He thinks of him in his crown on that podium denouncing their relationship and all it had stood for in one swift moment, how he has the world he had always wanted and probably some new mech with his servo tight around his wings. Megatron knows his former second has won; he has everything he had ever dreamed of now he has been left with this. 

In the dark of his private quarters he runs a hand over Rodimus’s wings and hears him mutter something happily, the voice is too deep still. Even in the dark he can’t pretend. It's not the same.


End file.
